


Scent of the Hunt

by meyari



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Furling Ronon, Gen, crazy ford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyari/pseuds/meyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Ronon was a Furling and the Furlings were lycanthropes?  How would that change his encounters with the Ford and the team?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea: What if Furlings were lycanthropes? Who would be a great shape changer in the SGA cast? After playing with pretty much everyone, my Ronon muse smacked me up back of the head and sat down to tell me how it really works. FYI: This starts as a rewrite of the episode but after a certain point the stupid generator got turned off and I went off in my own direction. ;) Hope everyone likes the story!

Ronon snarled as he dialed the Ring. They were coming. He could smell them closing in. There wouldn't be time to stay on whichever world he ended up on. He'd have to dial and dial again to get away. No matter how far he ran they'd catch him eventually, torture him and then let him loose again. The last seven years had taught him how inevitable that part of the game was.

The Ring whooshed and Ronon was gone, stunner bolts flying around him as he dove through the blue into a world of white snow and blinding light. Sensory overload made him practically blind for one precious second but he still shut off the Ring and then dialed again. Ten worlds in less than ten minutes got the Wraith off of his tail for the moment and gave him the time to shift back to his human form.

"Rrrrgh!" Ronon growled at the tracker in his back as it inflicted pain on him. He hated the punishments for shifting forms.

The shift was slow, so very slow. He focused on his wounds as he changed, which let them slowly heal as his body lost his fur and tail. The cut on his forehead disappeared while his ears shifted downwards to where humans had them. The claws that had saved him from the latest Wraith attack slid back into hiding. He panted, shaking from the effort it took to do something that should be as natural as breathing.

During the too-long moments it took to catch his breath, Ronon focused on the world around him. It was night but the reflected light of the sun was still too bright for his overly sensitive eyes. The wind carried the scent of humans, gun oil and, very faintly, Wraith blood. Boot prints marked the earth around the Ring. The print from the tread was different from anything he'd ever seen before.

"Damn," Ronon grumbled.

The smell of dead Wraith led him into the forest that hid his cave hideouts. Someone was haunting one of his hideouts, escaping the sun in the caves during the day and hunting Wraith at night. Young, male, very obviously enzyme addicted. He was examining one of the Wraith corpses when he heard the Ring activate.

Caught by his worries about the human who had entered his hideout, Ronon hesitated for a moment too long. The Ring whooshed open and the stench of many Wraith came through. His hunters. Ronon moved, heading into the trees. He didn't head for his caves. The sun would be coming up soon but there was no way that he'd lead the Wraith straight to his hideout.

The chase didn't go well. He took out most of them but one of the Wraith evaded his traps and got behind him. Ronon did what he did best: he ran. One blast caught him in the leg, making him stumble for a second. His best trap was ahead so Ronon ran on, only to stop dead in his tracks as the enzyme addicted man appeared in front of him. The enzyme stink was so wrong that for a second Ronon thought he was a Wraith.

"Drop it!" the man snapped.

Ronon snarled and pulled his gun. The fool was going to get himself killed, either by Ronon or the Wraith chasing him. He didn't get the chance to tell him that because the Wraith chasing him hit him squarely in the back with its stunner. Ronon's legs dropped out from under him as his body struggled to metabolize the stunner blast and get him going again. He had a second to be grateful for being out of the crossfire before the man opened fire on the Wraith. The projectiles he fired did the job, killing the Wraith and toppling it backwards into the dirt. Ronon rumbled threateningly as the man pulled a knife with a manic grin.

Instead of attacking Ronon, the man stepped right over him and went to the Wraith. The urge to shift was nearly overwhelming as the man carved into the Wraith, extracting the enzyme sacks. Ronon struggled to his feet and left at a run before the nut could decide that he was a threat. Someone that addicted wasn't going to be sane enough to realize that Ronon wanted nothing to do with him.

The next few hours were tense in the extreme. The man kept hunting him, keeping Ronon out in the sunshine when normally he would have been hiding in the caves. He shouldn't have shifted back to human form. His fur would have protected him from the sun, at least to a degree. When the hunt finally ended hours later and Ronon could finally hide in the caves he had sunburns, an empty stomach that wasn't going to get filled today and enough exhaustion that he wished he could sleep for a week.

Instead he woke up repeatedly, over-alert to every sound from outside. By sunset he could smell others in the forest. He'd managed to get a little food in the first hours after the sun set but not enough. Changing would be idiotic at this point. Between his hunger and exhaustion he'd probably just pass out when the tracker punished him for changing. Ronon growled and headed towards the Ring. He had to get away from here. He'd been in one place for too long. The Wraith would have another tracking team after him anytime.

Halfway back to the Ring he was blocked by more humans. It was obvious from the way they called into the forest that they were looking for the enzyme-addicted person who'd given Ronon so much trouble yesterday. Rather than face them and get them involved in his troubles, Ronon ran. To his annoyance, they chased him.

There were other teams searching the forest, which made Ronon snarl angrily. The entire forest seemed to be filled with people searching. He couldn't see any way that he could get to the Ring with all of them in the way. Rather than continue to run or sneak, Ronon turned and fired on the pair chasing him. The woman fell first. The man fell took a cautious few steps forward as he peered into the darkness of the forest. It wasn't dark to Ronon, so he shot the man too.

"Sorry," Ronon murmured as he carried them back to the closest cave. "Gonna have to have hostages to get out of here and you two just got nominated."

They didn't have a lot on them. He could tell that they were from somewhere safe, somewhere protected. Both of them were clean and well fed. Their scents were healthy with no signs of starvation or disease. Their packs had small packages that smelled faintly of food. Ronon tore them open and blinked at the goopy stuff inside. It wasn't fresh food but it did fill his belly well enough that he'd be able to change again shortly. By the time he'd started examining their weapons they stirred.

"Ford?" the man asked.

Ronon turned and looked at him. His eyesight must have been really blurry from being stunned to confuse Ronon with his target Ford. The woman woke a few moments later. Ronon turned away from them. He ignored their quiet talk, going over the man's weapon. It was primitive, a pretty basic projectile weapon, well engineered but nothing to write home about.

"Where are we?" the woman asked, pain evident in her voice and expression.

"I don't know," the man said, jerking his chin at Ronon, "but I was just about to ask him."

Ronon didn't let himself snort in amusement. The woman seemed relatively normal though something about her made him want to growl at her. The man had a scent that Ronon had never encountered before. He wasn't sure if it was that slight genetic difference that made the man so fearless or if it was just bravado, but he barely smelled of fear from the man at all, despite his being trapped and bound. The weapon felt clunky in Ronon's hand as he stood and walked over.

"You might want to be careful where you point that thing," the man said. "Looks like you've got the safety off."

This time Ronon didn't bother hiding his smirk as he cocked the weapon and pointed it at the man. The man's pulse leaped at his throat but he kept a confident expression on his face. Fear stink filled the cave, giving away his real emotions.

"Okay," the man said slowly. "Be that way. My guess is that if you wanted us dead, we'd be dead. So why don't you tell us who you are and what you want."

Ronon breathed in their scents instead of speaking. Normal humans had a slightly sweet smell. The woman had the faintest sour hint of Wraith in her scent, which put Ronon on edge once he realized it. It was only a tiny taint but it made him skittish about her. The man's scent was bitter, with a strong touch of spice.

"All right," the man said after a long moment of silence, "I'll go first. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

"I am Teyla Emmagan," the woman said, nodding to Ronon ever so slightly.

"Colonel?" Ronon asked to give himself a bit more time to figure out the man's scent. He knew he should know it. His grandfather had described a scent like that but Ronon couldn't remember off the top of his head what it meant.

"It's my rank, military designation," Sheppard explained.

Ronon nodded slowly. "Specialist Ronon Dex."

"That's you?" Sheppard asked.

"Name and rank," Ronon said.

He turned away and went back to their packs. Ronon ran through all the races that he'd encountered before. None of them matched. It took a minute for Ronon to realize which story his grandfather had been telling when he'd spoken of the bitter-spice scented people. It made his stomach twist at the same time his heart pounded with hope. He hadn't had hope for so very long that it made him a little lightheaded.

"Military?" Sheppard asked.

"I used to be," Ronon said.

He turned to look back at Sheppard. The man didn't look Altiran. He didn't look like anything other than a normal man. Of course, according to the stories the humans were descendants of the Altirans, just as Ronon was descended from the Verling. The Alliance may have fallen apart but maybe it would be possible to have a smaller version of it, if only for long enough to get the damned tracker out of his back. Ronon frowned at his optimism. He knew better than that.

"It was a long time ago," Ronon rumbled.

"And now?" Sheppard asked.

Ronon shrugged, discarding the gun and pulling out his makeshift burn cream. "Now I'm deciding whether or not to kill you and your friends."

It stung when he smeared it on, but it gave him a better chance of healing while he built up the strength to shift again. He should have stayed Verling. That form was a lot more noticeable but it was stronger and faster with better senses. Sheppard cut into his thoughts, clearing his throat.

"Look, the men guarding the Stargate are highly-trained soldiers armed with deadly weapons," Sheppard began as if he was trying to warn Ronon that he was doing something suicidally stupid.

"Stargate?" Ronon asked.

He turned and looked at them. Emmagan seemed concerned but she'd put on a patient expression that was marred by a frown. Her head had to be killing her. Sheppard just looked concerned. His scent was faintly spooked though, like he'd finally realized that they were in a tight spot. It was a little amusing that he'd warn Ronon that way. He was pretty sure that Sheppard's concern was for his people, not for himself. The man didn't seem to feel personal fear.

"Stargate," Sheppard repeated. "You know, the big circle thing."

"Huh," Ronon grunted. "Always heard it called the Ring of the Ancestors. Doesn't matter. I have to go through it."

"Look, we didn't come here looking for trouble," Sheppard said a little desperately as Ronon stood. "The whole killing thing is really unnecessary."

"Doesn't matter." Ronon shrugged. "If your friends try to stop me…"

"They won't," Sheppard declared fiercely enough that Ronon almost believed him. "Not if I tell them not to. Untie us, we'll go there together and you can be on your way."

Ronon cocked his head to Sheppard, breathing deeply to catch his scent as he asked. "Why should I trust you?"

There were a million reasons why he shouldn't, starting with the Wraith and continuing onwards from there. The question seemed to make Sheppard pause too. He narrowed his eyes for a long moment before looking over his shoulder at Emmagan.

"That's a good question," Sheppard said. "Teyla, why should he trust us?"

"We mean you no harm," Emmagan said directly to Ronon. "We are only here searching for a friend."

Ronon nodded very, very slightly. "I saw him, your friend. He killed the Wraith that was hunting me. Why are you looking for him?"

"Hunting you?" Sheppard asked with a little alarm showing on his face.

"His name is Aiden Ford and he is sick," Emmagan answered Ronon. "He needs our help."

"Why's he running from you?" Ronon asked them.

He thought it was revealing that they didn't admit right away that Ford was enzyme addicted. No one wanted to be associated with Wraith worshipers, not that Ford was actually worshipping them from what Ronon could see but the implication was damning, no matter who you were dealing with. Sheppard hesitated and tried to get off without explaining but he caved easily enough when Ronon challenged him. His story of the battle and how Ford had gotten addicted brought back memories of when he'd been captured on Sateda. The flashback made him flinch and rub his chest against the remembered pain of being fed on.

Static crackled from the pack Ronon had taken from Sheppard. He could hear snatches of voices in the static. Ronon looked at the pack and then back at Sheppard with a raised eyebrow. Sheppard's expression was distinctly uncomfortable, as if he knew that this was something that could be used against him. Emmagan's expression was reassuring despite the tightness around her eyes.

"What is that?" Ronon asked.

"Radios," Sheppard drawled.

"They are communication devices," Emmagan elaborated.

Sheppard sighed and continued as if admitting that meant he had to explain. "Our people are trying to contact us. The cave must be causing interference."

Ronon nodded slowly. The interference was part of why he hid in the caves whenever it was safe to come back here. He picked up the little device, turning it over in his hands. It would be useful to be able to listen in on Sheppard's people's activities but he didn't trust either of them as far as he could throw a Wraith cruiser. He wanted to know but he didn't want to leave them alone in the cave. They weren't tied that securely.

"Stay put," Ronon told them after a long moment considering which was more important.

"Sure thing," Sheppard said easily. The tightness that appeared around his eyes and the way his scent shift to alert intent made the words a lie.

Ronon took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he focused inwards. He locked his eyes on them as he forced his body to shift despite the pain the tracking device caused. Emmagan's eyes went wide and she started praying to her gods, whoever they were. Sheppard frowned as if he didn't know what he was seeing. After Ronon's jaw shifted to accommodate his fangs Sheppard's eyes flew wide and he stared at Ronon with total awe.

"You're a werewolf, werecat, were… whatever?" Sheppard breathed.

"No, he is Furling," Emmagan said, suspicion in her eyes now that hadn't been there before. "I did not realize that any of your people survived."

"Far as I know," Ronon said as he shook the pain off and stood, "there aren't any others left. And it's pronounced Ver-ling, not Fur-ling."

He stood and went to the entrance of the cave, keeping one ear trained on them as he tried to get the device to receive its signal. Emmagan immediately tried to twist her hands free. Ronon turned and growled at her. She froze, her eyes hot as she glared at Ronon's back.

"What are you doing?" Sheppard hissed at her.

"We must get free," Emmagan whispered back to him. Neither of them seemed to realize how good his ears were. "He is not human. Furling are not to be trusted. The Wraith make a point of hunting them. We are in danger as long as we are close to him."

"I told you that I have to get through the Ring," Ronon said loudly enough for his voice to carry to them. "The Wraith are coming."

"Why?" Sheppard asked. His head was swiveling as he tried to look at Emmagan and Ronon at the same time. "How do you know?"

"I know," Ronon said. The mournful certainty in his voice made both of them still. "They're hunting me. More than most of my people. They're hunting me, personally."

Emmagan stared at Ronon for a long moment, suspicion turning into a sort of sick satisfaction that made her look more like the Wraith that he smelled in her. Sheppard still had that confused, concerned expression, so maybe his people didn't look at non-humans as less than people. There weren't too many races that accepted non-humans anymore, not given the way the Wraith had hunted his people to extinction.

"You are a Runner," Emmagan stated. It wasn't a question.

"What's a Runner?" Sheppard asked, which made Ronon wonder just how isolated the world he'd come from was. He had to have been massively protected not to have at least heard stories but his scent and heat signature were both as confused as his expression.

"I was captured during a culling on my planet," Ronon explained. He carefully didn't squeeze the little radio, not wanting to crush it. "I was taken to a ship. A Wraith started to feed on me but as soon as he realized what I was he stopped. They operated on me, put a tracking device in my back and released me. They hunted me. I hunted them back. I've been running ever since."

Some curse word whispered across Sheppard's lips. He smelled of horror, as if being chased and hunted by the Wraith was a terrible fate. It was. Emmagan on the other hand smelled like she thought it was only appropriate. Ronon suppressed a sigh at her response though he couldn't keep his tail from thrashing in annoyance. She must be from one of the worlds that viewed all non-human races as dangerous and kin to the Wraith. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

"Look, like I said, we're not here to get in your way," Sheppard said, jerking at the bonds tying him. "If you want to go through the gate, go. Give me my radio and I'll tell my men to let you through."

"You can tell them in person," Ronon said as he made his decision. "I'm taking you with me."

He moved back into the cave, raising a lip to snarl at Emmagan who glared back at him. The Wraith stink of her genetics was stronger when she was this angry. It made him bristle at her. Sheppard didn't quail at the snarling between them. If anything he found Ronon leaning over him and loosing the ropes with his claws fascinating. Emmagan rolled to her feet and darted to the back of the cave the instant she was free. Sheppard sat in his place and rubbed his wrists while studying Ronon thoughtfully.

"You know," Sheppard said, "there's a chance we could help you."

"How?" Ronon asked.

He kept his attention split between the two of them and his hand on his gun. He'd probably need to stun Emmagan again. She obviously wasn't going to submit to being tied up even to save Sheppard's life.

"We know a pretty good doctor," Sheppard explained. "Maybe he could take that tracking device out."

"You think I haven't tried?" Ronon asked with a snort that made Emmagan start and shift position.

Sheppard shrugged. "Suit yourself."

His elaborately casual attitude hid nothing of his curiosity and his strange determination to help. Ronon hesitated, thinking about it. The Verling and the Altirans had been allies for a very long time before the Alliance broke. They'd lived together in the same cities, keyed their technology to work together and helped each other in all things.

Of course, Sheppard wasn't actually Altiran. He had their blood but he wasn't one of them. There was no real reason for him to help, other than maybe sheer stubborn determination to do what he thought was right. Emmagan's obvious distaste wasn't making the slightest difference in Sheppard's responses, so Ronon thought he must be the one in charge.

"Why would you do that?" Ronon asked, watching and scenting him carefully.

"Because I'm a nice guy," Sheppard said flippantly. His scent and heat pattern said that he was serious. "Look, you hate the Wraith, we hate the Wraith. It's something we have in common. We just want to get our friend back."

Ronon nodded slowly. Maybe it was stupid but he'd been running for seven years. Meeting someone who not only might be able to help but who was actually willing to help was enough to make him take the chance.

"You get this tracking device out of me and I'll get your friend back for you," Ronon offered.

"Okay, it's a deal," Sheppard said with a smile that lit up his face.

It was tough giving them back their packs. Emmagan immediately rifled through hers as if looking for things that he'd stolen or hidden inside of it. Sheppard sighed and rolled his eyes. He swung his pack onto his back without more than a cursory check. Ronon gave Sheppard his weapon back. Emmagan's stayed in Ronon's hand. Neither of them called him on it.

The trek back to the Ring was silent. Ronon let them go first, occasionally directing them which way to go. Every time he spoke Emmagan started and glared at him over her shoulder. Sheppard started giving her pointed looks after the third time, which Ronon found amusing. Their friends were out in the forest, along with Ford, but none of them were anywhere close.

"How long have you been Running?" Sheppard asked as they got closer to the Ring. Ronon could hear the voices of Sheppard's people but there was no way Sheppard or Emmagan could with only human ears.

"Seven years," Ronon growled.

"You've been alone all that time?" Sheppard asked, shock in his voice.

"Not much choice," Ronon said, shrugging. "I can't go home. Can't stay in one place for too long, even here. Sun messes with the tracker a little but not enough. They still find me if I stay."

"What happens when you do stay?" Sheppard asked. Emmagan shuddered and turned her face away from both of them. Sheppard caught that response and looked back at Ronon with the obvious question clear in his eyes. Ronon nodded that she was right.

"I stayed, one night only, in a village I came across early on," Ronon told him. "Ate a real meal for a change. Slept in a real bed. Left early the next day. Didn't matter. Later I heard that the whole village…"

Ronon shook his head and Sheppard muttered curses again. His expression was black with anger, apparently aimed at the Wraith. Emmagan's scent was full of blame that seemed to be aimed firmly at Ronon. Ronon wondered if he'd be able to stand being around her for much longer. Between her prejudices and her Wraith blood, she was hard to deal with. Before any of them could say anything that would make it worse, voices came over Sheppard's radio.

"Colonel Sheppard, come in," a man's voice said.

"Hey, Lorne," Sheppard said, touching the thing in his ear. "Sorry we've been out of contact. Found a new friend who's going to help us bring Ford back. Get on the horn and call home. I need Beckett out here pronto. Our new friend's got a Wraith tracker in his back that we need removed stat."

"Yes sir," Lorne said. "We've got another problem, sir. McKay's been taken. Ford got the drop on us. He stunned me and took McKay with him. We haven't been able to track them down. Sorry sir."

"Damn it," Sheppard muttered, his hand over the end of his radio. "All right, get Beckett here pronto. We'll do our best to find McKay and Ford."

"Yes sir."

Sheppard tapped the radio off and muttered curses under his breath. Ronon could smell his indecision. He smiled, shaking his head. Emmagan glared at him as if she thought he'd smiled at the news that one of their people had been taken. He bared a fang at her, making her pale and raise her chin defiantly. The gesture reminded him way too much of a Wraith Queen to be comfortable.

"I can find them easy," Ronon offered. "Faster and easier to do it now than after the tracker's removed. We just have to move quickly, before the Wraith come."

"Really?" Sheppard asked, hope in his eyes and scent.

"Yeah."

Sheppard turned to Emmagan, challenging her without words to do what was right. She met his challenge with a furious glare that quickly melted into contrition and poorly hidden shame. Emmagan nodded, throwing a look of distaste at Ronon.

"We should rescue Rodney and Ford," Emmagan said very reluctantly.

"You going to be able to deal with him?" Sheppard asked. "If you can't you can go back to the gate. Ronon and I can take this, Teyla."

"No," Emmagan said firmly enough to make Sheppard flinch very slightly. "Aidan is my friend and teammate, as is Rodney. I will not allow my… worries… to keep me from helping them."

"Okay then," Sheppard said. "You're the one with the nose, Ronon. Lead on. We'll keep up."

"You'll try," Ronon chuckled. "I'll slow down for you."

He turned to Emmagan, holding her gun out to her. She hesitated before taking it. Questions and mistrust hung in her eyes and haunted her scent. He could smell how she was questioning not only her reactions but also Sheppard's. He didn't give her any ammunition for more doubt, keeping a blank expression and non-threatening posture. After a second she took the gun from Ronon, hugging it to her chest.

"Don't shoot me in the back," Ronon told her. "It'll slow me down too much."

"Not kill you?" Emmagan said in a challenging tone of voice.

"Nope, gun's not good enough for that," Ronon said with a fang-baring grin that made her pale and back off a step. "Only slow me down and annoy me."

"Go," Sheppard told him with another stern look at Emmagan.

Ronon went. Both of Sheppard's people were easy to track. Ford stank of enzyme addiction so his scent hung in the air. It was a 'loud' scent, not pungent, but hard to miss for Ronon's nose. The other one's scent was equally hard to miss but only because of the strange mixture of rubber and some sort of fruity scent that Ronon had never encountered before. It was right on the verge of being strong enough to make him sneeze. He barely even bothered looking for tracks of their passage. Their scents were so strong that he didn't need it.

Sheppard and Emmagan did a good job keeping up. Ronon ran at half speed which seemed to be near full speed for the others. He slowed down and then snarled a curse in his own language as he heard shots off in the distance. Sheppard cursed as well, hearing what Ronon had.

"Go!" Sheppard shouted at him. "Stop Ford! Save McKay!"

"Follow the blazes," Ronon told them. He reached out and gashed a tree as he passed. Four raw slashes gouging deep into the wood appeared.

"Right!" Sheppard said, waving at Ronon to go.

Ronon went to full speed, running all out as he tracked the scents of the two men and the sounds of their argument. He used his claws to gash trees as he went, leaving Sheppard and Emmagan a trail to follow. It only took a couple of seconds to reach the place where Ford and McKay had stopped traveling together and had started fighting. McKay had fired the first shot and then had run away from Ford when he turned on him. When Ronon caught up to them a very short time later McKay had gotten caught in one of his snare traps and Ford was getting ready to kill him.

"Well, look at you," Ford giggled, grinning at the sight of McKay.

"Yes, look at me," McKay laughed in a completely false tone. "H-How about cutting me down?"

"No," Ford said as the smile faded into a murderous expression, "I think I'm still going to kill you."

"What?" McKay's voice climbed into screaming hysteria as he struggled awkwardly against the trap hanging him upside down in the air. "What do you mean 'still'?"

Ronon didn't wait for Ford to cross the line into edgy aggression into actual murder. He charged into the clearing and tackled Ford away from McKay. Ford shouted and lost his grip on his weapon. They tumbled over each other for a moment before Ford shoved Ronon away with greater than human strength. Ronon drew his gun and thumbed it to the highest stun setting. Ford froze for a precious three seconds when he realized _what_ was attacking him. Those three seconds let Ronon blast him.

"The fuck?" Ford gasped and staggered at the first blast.

Ronon fired again and then again. It took a fourth blast for Ford to fall over, finally neutralized.

"What _are_ you?" McKay asked shrilly while craning his neck to get a clear look at Ronon.

Ronon looked at him, looked down at Ford who was still twitching, and then fired another blast into Ford's chest. He finally lay still. Ronon put his blaster away, picked Ford up and threw him over his shoulder. McKay whimpered, struggling again.

"Um, hi," McKay said hesitantly. "Can you, um, let me down now?"

Ronon couldn't resist. He heard Sheppard and Emmagan running up. They'd be there any second but McKay's obviously nervous nature was too tempting for him to resist teasing just a little. He walked over and cocked his head at McKay, grinning and baring his fangs. McKay squeaked and flailed as if he could fly away.

"You got him," Sheppard gasped as he ran into the clearing.

"Yup," Ronon said, his tail twitching with amusement at McKay's reaction. "Better hurry getting him someplace secure though. Took five stun blasts to knock him out. He's so high he's going to wake up soon."

"Thanks," Sheppard said with a huge sigh of relief.

Emmagan got McKay down, murmuring reassuring words to him as he gasped and flailed and slumped to the ground. Once he was up they hurried towards the Ring. The clock in Ronon's head was ticking of the minutes until the Wraith arrived. There wasn't much time left before they came after him. He knew it. He'd been too long in one place.

"Holy--!" one of Sheppard's men gasped when they entered the clearing around the Ring. He raised his gun, staring wildly at Ronon.

"Stand down, Major," Sheppard snapped. "This is Ronon Dex. He helped us catch Ford."

"Sorry sir," the Major said as he lowered his weapon and had the other soldiers lower theirs. "Beckett hasn't come through yet."

"Don't worry about it," Sheppard said with a nod. "Let's get out of here. The Wraith apparently will be coming in any time now."

"Yes sir," the Major said.

Ford was twitching on Ronon's shoulder by the time they loaded into the Altiran ship and went through the Ring. Ronon stayed in the back with the soldiers and Ford, watching and waiting for Ford to wake up. He could smell how close it was. The soldiers watched Ronon like he was the strangest thing they'd ever seen. None of them smelled as though they were automatically suspicious of him like Emmagan but all of them were wary. It didn't bother Ronon. Fangs and claws made every human nervous; it was a natural human reaction.

The instant they were through the Ring Ronon felt the touch of Altiran technology against his mind. The little ship had more or less ignored him in favor of Sheppard but the city they arrived in perked up and all but beamed at him. It felt old and tired, with problems in the interface, but not like it was broken irreparably. Ronon cocked his head, listening, until Ford twitched violently. He drew his blaster and focused on Ford, sending a little mental apology to the city. There were more important things to pay attention to right now. She accepted it, still bubbling with happiness at having a Verling visit.

"He's waking up," Ronon called to Sheppard.

"Setting down now," Sheppard replied. "Got security staff and medical waiting."

"Good," Ronon answered. "Don't want to stun him again. He's messed up enough as it is."

The little ship set down with a tiny bump that made Ford shudder and kick. All of the soldiers watching Ronon started, switching their stares down to Ford. They seemed to be very aware of just what Ford could do. When the back door opened more soldiers came in, pausing for a moment to stare at Ronon before securing Ford in cuffs that he didn't think would so a very good job holding him once he woke up.

"Make sure he's seriously tied down while he detoxes," Ronon commented to the security staff. "He'll break those things easily without realizing that they're there."

"Thanks buddy," Sheppard said. "Ready to get that thing out of your back?"

"Oh yeah," Ronon said with a smile that curled his whiskers forward and set his tail wagging.

Ronon wasn't surprised by the gasps and stares when he walked out the back of the little ship. Most humans weren't prepared for seeing a Verling. He started purring very quietly, sending out a soothing vibration that should calm them a little bit. Emmagan started and glared at him but everyone else relaxed minutely. Sheppard strode over to another man who was staring at Ronon with his jaw dropped open in awe.

"Okay Carson," Sheppard said. "This is Ronon. Apparently he's a Verling or Furling or whatever. He's got some sort of Wraith tracking device in his back. We need you to take it out."

"Excuse me?" Carson said, whipping his head around to stare at Sheppard with the same dropped-jaw expression. "Sheppard, I'm a doctor, not a xenobiologist. I don't know what our painkillers and antibiotics will do to him. I could kill him without realizing it!"

"Don't worry about it," Ronon said. "Painkillers won't do much good and my body resists infection naturally. Just want this thing out."

Carson whined deep in his throat, so nervous that he didn't respond to the purr's vibrations anymore. Ronon kept it up for everyone else's sakes as they headed through the city. The city was beautiful. He wasn't sure what to make of the city's cheerful bubbly thoughts in the back of his head. It was obvious that Sheppard was her favorite but she seemed delighted to have him there. After a moment he realized that part of why she was so happy was that her ability to talk to the humans had been damaged somehow. They couldn't hear her, not clearly.

"All right," Sheppard said to Carson once they got to the infirmary, "for what it's worth I'd never ask you to do this if I thought that this guy was going to hurt you.

Carson swallowed hard, looking at Ronon's claws before looking at Sheppard. "Is that opinion based on some sort of evidence or is it a gut feeling that this gentleman isn't dangerous?"

"I didn't say he wasn't dangerous," Sheppard said with a little shifty look and shrug. "He could probably kill you in the blink of an eye. I just don't think he will."

"Well thank you, I feel much better now," Carson groaned, rolling his eyes. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and then seemed to push his fear away. "All right, have a seat. Off with your shirt. Let me have a look."

Ronon nodded, pulling off his shirt and sitting on one of the beds. It was uncomfortable with his tail and the bed seemed a little high but Carson didn't appear to mind. He used a handheld scanner, humming in concern as he located the device. Carson muttered some sort of curse under his breath that the translation didn't handle. Ronon's tail twitched as Carson probed with his fingers.

"I'll need to shave a bit of fur off," Carson said after a moment.

"No you don't," Ronon said. "Give me something to eat and I'll take care of it."

"What?" Carson asked, obviously confused.

"Give him a power bar," Sheppard said.

"All right," Carson said.

He got a small wrapped bar of something and gave it to Ronon. Ronon unwrapped it and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. Sheppard shrugged apologetically. It tasted horrible but the bar had enough protein in it to make shifting possible, if exhausting. He suspected that it was going to give him a stomach ache but it shouldn't be too bad once he'd shifted a couple of times.

"Yuck," Ronon said, giving the wrapper to Carson. After a second he nodded and shifted forms. It hurt as much as always but once he was done he was back in his human shape. "Can't do that again for a while. Need to eat real food and rest. Should be better if you get that thing out of my back though."

"Why?" Carson asked, guiding Ronon to lie down on his stomach.

"Blocks the shifting," Ronon told him. He really didn't like lying there undefended but Sheppard was guarding the door and Carson smelled like the only thing he cared about was taking care of Ronon.

"My god," Carson breathed. "Tell me you didn't try and cut this thing out yourself."

"Yeah, tried it once with a mirror," Ronon admitted. "Couldn't quite reach. Most of it's from two different doctors."

"No one I know who calls himself a doctor would do this," Carson grumbled as he touched the scars on Ronon's back. "Let me numb this and we'll get it out right quick."

Carson grumbled another untranslatable curse as he worked. The curse seemed to be directed at the other doctors and the Wraith rather than anything Ronon had done. He used some sort of injected local anesthetic. Ronon didn't tell him that it barely numbed the skin. It was more important to get the damned tracker out. Once it was gone Ronon would be able to heal the wound easily enough.

"Hold still," Carson told Ronon. "If you flinch I could damage your spine."

"Just do it," Ronon replied.

It hurt but Ronon didn't allow himself to flinch or move. Carson worked quickly and surely. He seemed quite aware that Ronon was feeling everything that he did, as he got the tracker out much faster than it had gone in. Ronon groaned once Carson dropped the device into a little tray next to Ronon's bed.

"There," Carson said with a sigh of heartfelt relief. "I need to stitch this up, lad."

"No need," Ronon said.

He took a deep breath, praying that the device hadn't done permanent damage to his ability to shift. It took a second to nerve himself to do it. Once he focused the shift came as easily as breathing, as easily as blinking or moving or thinking. The wound closed up and faded into a bruise that would disappear in the next day or two. Ronon grinned, his whiskers curling forward.

"Worked," Ronon said, rolling over and smiling at Carson and Sheppard. "Thanks."

"Cool," Sheppard said with a delighted grin that made him look years younger.

"That… that is amazing," Carson said, staring at Ronon. "All right, I'd like to do some tests, make sure that we have a baseline for you but I suspect that food is more important right now and I do have poor Aidan to take care of."

"I'll go get him some food," Sheppard offered. "You rest, Ronon. I'll be right back."

Ronon nodded, shifting back to his human shape because the bed wasn't designed for someone with a tail. Their food was odd once Sheppard returned with it but there was enough meat that Ronon was able to fill his stomach up entirely for the first time in a very long time. Ronon wasn't sure when the last time he'd had a truly full belly was. Sheppard left after Ronon started eating, explaining that he had to report in. Several hours later, while Ronon was listening to Ford shouting and raging through the walls that appeared to be soundproof to everyone else, Sheppard came back with bad news written all over his scent.

"Um, Ronon?" Sheppard asked. "I checked with Teyla and she gave me an address that she said was for your world. Is this it?"

He offered Ronon a little piece of paper with the symbols drawn on it. Ronon nodded, his stomach clenching around the unfamiliar weight of enough food filling him up. Sheppard's worried scent shifted to one of despair and helpless anger. The words didn't need to be said but Ronon looked at Sheppard questioningly anyway.

"Think you're up to coming with me?" Sheppard asked instead of saying it.

"Sure," Ronon nodded.

They walked in silence to the room with the Ring. There was a screen of some sort showing a blurry picture of Sateda. Ronon knew the instant he saw the screen what it was. He recognized the towers and broken buildings of his home world. He'd cherished the hope that his people would have survived the final battle. All of these years he'd tried to convince himself that at least some of the humans would have survived the destruction that had been happening when he'd been culled. There was no way to tell from the blurry image if the central holy building had survived but if it had his people would go on, no matter if all of the Verling died.

"What is this?" Ronon asked, just to make certain.

"We've got these things called MALPS," Sheppard said reluctantly. "We sent one through to check out your world. I'm sorry. It looks like they're gone. Um, if you want you can stay here. I had them set up a room for you while we checked this out."

Ronon opened his mouth but he couldn't figure out what to say so he shut it again. He nodded and turned away from the screen. He would have to go back sometime. The buildings could be destroyed but that didn't mean that all the people were dead. As long as the holy altar was intact… His nose would know the truth once he went home. A couple of soldiers escorted Ronon to 'his' room, doing their best not to make it obvious that he was being guarded in case he did something dangerous or stupid.

*Lock the door please,* Ronon asked the city.

She sent a wave of sorrow and apology, locking the door while telling him that if Sheppard wanted in she'd let him in. Ronon smiled at that in spite of the pain he felt at seeing his home destroyed. He stripped out of his clothes and showered what felt like several decades of dirt off of his body. Once clean he dried off and then transformed all the way into his true shape.

It was an act of defiance, of worship, of faith and trust that he wasn't the only one. Their true shapes weren't shared with humans or other races. He had only taken it outside of the temple a few times in his life. Ronon padded to the balcony and lay down in the fading sunshine that reminded him of the temple's soaring windows and sacred smells.

The air here smelled of sea mixed with the old city baking in the day's sunshine. Ronon sighed, laying his chin on his forelegs. He wouldn't believe that he was the last surviving Verling. There had to be others left. No matter what happened, Ronon wouldn't believe that he was the last of his people. The Verling were tough. Others had to have survived. His family might be gone but the Verling would go on. They'd survived this long after all.

Ronon looked out over the city that his ancestors had helped build and started to quietly sing the old holy songs his grandfather had taught him. The city added her inaudible complement to his song, sharing her hope with his. Come what may, he wasn't alone anymore.


End file.
